


Another Bite Of You

by audreyslove



Series: Signed Sealed Delivered [9]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: A flashback from Robin and Regina's first christmas as a married couple, mentioned in the original fic as:'It's Robin who sends them down memory lane, when he reveals (still breathing a bit heavily) that this is now his favorite Christmas, even better than their first Christmas as an engaged couple. It was a nice holiday, it meant a lot to her, because she finally was celebrating a holiday where she felt like family instead of a friend, or a girlfriend, so there was a sweet aspect to it. But they were a young, newly engaged couple high on the spirit of Christmas and the prospect of an infinite number of holidays to spend as a family to come, and they had expressed that excitement sexually. Repeatedly."Based on a manip from @starscythe which really inspired this part of the original fic anyway :)





	Another Bite Of You

This chapter was inspired by this beautiful piece of art by [@starscythe](http://www.twitter.com/starscythe). 

She’s known for years that he was The One, that he would ask her to marry him.

It hadn’t exactly been a _surprise_ when he proposed last month, the timing of it all, sure, but they were in _that_ place, where talks of the future occurred regularly. He wants to buy a house in the city, they want children some day, and neither had any talks of the future imagining any scenario where they weren’t together.

So marriage was expected, and though she as surprised on the time and the day he chose to ask her, the overall sentiment had been known to her.

She knew they would marry someday, after all.

So truly the proposal should not have changed anything.

But it somehow has.

Everything seems more _real_ now, and he asked her in the sweetest of ways, making her feel so blessed.

And the fact he’s told he is hers forever has her nearly floating at moments, as silly as it seems.

The morning of Christmas Eve she truly feels like an _adult._ She’s not the girlfriend of Robin anymore, she’s future family. Ava is her future mother-in-law. She belongs to them, and maybe she always did but now she has a ring to make it official.

This Christmas she doesn’t have to rush off to her mother's, doesn’t have to be told that she has _her_ family to visit as well. Now she can remind her mother that Robin _is_ her family, and there’s no guilt associated with her choice to be with him.

They had a great night last night, a really fantastic night. Robin’s Christmas party was the night before, and they had an amazing time flirting and chatting and teasing one another all night, until they came home and nearly ripped the clothes off one another.

Her red dress is hanging off the corner of the nightstand, his shirt is at the foot of the bed.

She still feels a bit dizzy and lightheaded from the liquor, but she is determined to do something domestic and cheesy to start the holiday off right.

Her mother had been dry and proper; holidays were a time for church and stuffy parties. They were a busy time for Cora, leaving Regina to feel cold and empty during a holiday that was supposed to be anything but that. She had always longed for something out of cheesy sitcoms and Christmas movies, and that is how she plans to live her life with Robin.

So she grabs Robin’s shirt and puts it on, padding into the kitchen, set on making pancakes from scratch. The batter is easy enough to make, it’s a bit thicker than from-the-box batter, a bit more fragrant as well. And then she carefully attempts to make four perfectly round, golden brown pancakes

It works well enough. Isn’t perfect, but she will give herself the slightly irregular one. She layers two pancakes on each plate and cuts up raspberries and strawberries, arranging the pieces into a little hat on top of the pancakes. It ends up looking quite nice, actually, will look better when she adds the bananas, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce.

She pictures bring Robin eating Santa shaped pancakes in bed, watching him laugh and tease her for being a Christmas obsessed sap, but he’ll enjoy it, she knows he will.

She pops a strawberry in her mouth as she cooks, so happy she has to keep from humming as she slices up the banana.

And that’s when Robin ruins all her plans by stepping out of the bedroom before she’s finished.

“I smell something delicious,” he murmurs, wandering into the kitchen without his shirt, looking criminally sexy.

“Is it the pancakes or the coffee?” she asks, pretending to be unaffected as she draws little faces on the pancakes with warmed chocolate syrup.

“It’s you,” he rasps into her ear as he hugs her from behind, his hands pulling her against him as he kisses her shoulder.

“You know how much I love it when you wear my shirt.”

She had not even thought of that when she grabbed it this morning, but she _does_ know he likes this — quite a bit. So she goes with it, coyly smiles back and shrugs. “I’m just cooking breakfast.”

“Mmm,” Robin kisses her neck as a hand wanders to cup one breast, and then he other. Her nipples are already tight, hard in anticipation (and she can feel him standing at attention behind her, his erection pressed against her ass). “You look like a wet dream right now,” he moans a bit, rocking into her, “Prove to me that I’m awake?”

“I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” she laughs back. “You were supposed to stay asleep so I could surprise you. But you are very much awake.” She rocks back into where he’s hard for her as if to emphasize the point.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go back,” Robin moans, his hands sliding down to her underwear, slipping underneath to give a teasing touch to her clit. “If you come with me, that is. I want you to be my breakfast in bed. We can have pancakes later.”

“They’ll go cold,” she smiles back, her neck craning to catch his eyes. “Have a little patience. I just have to add the whipped cream and chocolate sauce, and—“

He urges her to turn around to face him, so she does, placing her arms on his shoulders as she smiles and draws him in for a kiss.

“My wife,” he says with such adoration it could almost make her cry.

“Not yet,” she reminds. “I could still change my mind.”

“You wouldn’t,” he rasps, drawing her into a kiss.

“I wouldn’t,” she agrees, “but I made you breakfast, and I want us to eat— _mmm_.”

He’s being quite unfair, kissing at her neck that way, his hands already unbuttoning the shirt she’s wearing.

“I want,” he continues, dotting these hot, tongue filled kisses along her neck and chest between every word, “you... for... breakfast… first.”

She moans as he teases her nipple through the fabric of his shirt. God, she can’t wait for him.

“Later,” her voice is so breathless it sounds like a plea more jab an order. “Don’t want all this food to go to waste.”

He chuckles and then draws her into a kiss, while he works on popping open button after button, until the shirt is entirely open.

“You taste like strawberry,” her murmurs into her skin.

She laughs and grabs blindly for the bowl of cut berries, grabbing a piece and feeding it to him.

He licks at her finger as she feeds him, drawing her thumb in for a long suck.

“Tastes good,” he says, and she takes the opportunity to slide off the counter and finish the pancake decorations, grabbing the can of whipped cream.

“Let me guess, that’s for his beard?”

“It was supposed to be,” she explains. “But now I’m just going to use it…” she uses the whipped cream at the as trim at the brim of the berry “hat”, adding a little festive whipped cream pom-pom at the bottom, then gives Santa a little whipped cream moustache

“There. We can use bananas for the beard, we don’t need all that whipped cream.”

“Here, let me do the other,” he says, grabbing the other plate. She’s suspicious but hands it to him nonetheless, shooting him a stern, teasing look and a raised eyebrow that tell him he better follow the instructions.

He does at first, adding whipped cream to the brim of the hat.

“There,” he says.

“And there,” she points to the tip of the hat.

“Oh yes, I mustn’t forget there.” He makes a little whipped cream dollop at the end, then looks up at her as of waiting instructions.

“And there,” she points to the spot between the chocolate dot nose and the syrupy smile. Her shirt is entirely unbuttoned, breasts peeking out as she leans forward. She should button back up, really, but he’s enjoying the view, and she likes teasing him a bit.

He dutifully adds the whipped cream moustache.

“Perfect,” Regina declares, as she arranged slices of bananas into the shape of a beard on her plate.

“I think I found another spot where the whipped cream could go,” he muses, staring at the plate.

“Where?” Regina asks, staring at the plate.

Before she can react he’s aiming the whipped cream at her, spraying a bit on her left breast. She is trying to think of something witty to say when he does the same to the right.

“Robin…” she wants her voice to sound like a stern warning, not a wanton plea, but the way he's looking at her now, she doesn’t feel she has much restraint.

He pins her against the counter again and sets himself to doing a thorough job licking the whipped cream off, and fuck, if she’s going to lose this battle, might as well concede when she has some semblance of dignity.

“Feels good,” she gasps, her hands combing through his hair as he chuckles and moves to her other breasts, giving her the same eager, irresistible treatment.

She urges his head up and kisses him, reaching underneath his pants to give him a firm few strokes with one hand. He gasps and nods, his eyes shutting for a moment, leaving her time to direct the whipped cream bottle at his jaw, staying him with the sugary treat.

He gasps a bit, but looked entirely please as she licks it off him with a devilish smile.

They continue to sample the toppings off one another, Robin sliding a chunk of strawberry against her neck and now her chest, then licking the juicy, sticky trail with his tongue. It’s like he’s _starving_ for her, the way his lips smack greedily against her skin, and her mind is unable to wander to the other ways he’s eaten at her.

Fuck it, pancakes can wait.

His hands are on the elastic of her underwear, pausing for long enough to give her time to protest if she wants (she doesn’t, she very much wants this) and then he pulls them off, sliding the hem down her legs until they drop at her feet.

He drops to his knees, looking up with her with a smile as he urges her to part her thighs.

She doesn’t make a habit of fucking while preparing for food, but this time she will make an exception.

She braces her hands on the counter behind her and takes in a deep breath in anticipation as she feels his beard tickling her inner thighs.

And then she feels his tongue sliding up her thigh; one, then the other.

“Quickly,” she breathes, moving one hand off the countertop to palm at his head, direct him where she needs him. It’s her left hand, and she’s still not quite used to the weight of the ring on the finger, it slams into his head a bit harder than she likes. She whispers an apology, just hears his chuckle as a response as he presses kiss after kiss close, but not quite where she needs him.

“Robin,” she watches her hands as they weave through his locks, her ring catching the light and shining brightly through his hair. His tongue is on her now, light, slow licks instead of the firm ones she has craved, or those rapid, feathery presses of the tongue that work her up.

This is just a touch to tease, and it is doing a very good job at teasing her.

He slides his tongue through her sex, pushing into her opening, then groaning, fucking her with his tongue and eating at her with a bit more fervor.

“So wet,” he groans when he pulls away his mouth, replacing it with his hand, god yes, two fingers slide inside her and start a slow, deep pace. “Thought I’d have to work you up more.”

“Mm, no, I— _mm!_ ” she goes a bit breathless when his mouth finds her clit again, not teasing now, giving her those hearty passes of his tongue she moves. “You know what it does to me when you look at me like that, and touch me like that —oh— you look good in without a shirt.”

He chuckles and mutters _you too_ and then he’s on her again, giving her exactly what she wants, his tongue tracing over her clit in steady, firm passes.

She had been a bit more worked up than she realized at the start, and he is very, very good at this, frankly this point he could get her off drunk and half asleep. But there’s something about it being Christmas morning, a holiday they now get to share because they are a _real family_ now, and she gets this all the time from the man who will soon be her husband. It’s making everything feel so much… more.

He quickens the pace of his fingers, angling them just right as he eats at her, trading those firm licks for loud, sloppy sucks that have her gripping his hair and rocking against him. god, she’s going to come, she’s going to, right here in their little kitchen and on a particular thrust, losing her balance and nearly falling on top of him.

“Shit!” she screams, reaching for the counter, “Sorry, I…”

Robin looks positively pleased with himself, and not one bit put out by the way she nearly collapsed on top of him.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he sighs.

He kisses her with passion, urging her down with him to the floor, and in this moment there’s nowhere more she wants to be than making love with her husband to be on the hardwood.

So she lets him take her down with him, laughing as he plops her down a bit too heavily, the back of her head hitting the floor with a thump, shaking her head and giggling as he curses and rushes to attend to her.

“I’m fine,” she assures, her smile is steph ear-to-ear now. “More than fine, really really great.”

“Good,” he says, reaching to the counter to grab the berries and the whipped cream. “Because I wasn’t finished with you yet.”

He frees her of her shirt ( _his_ shirt, really) throws it to the corner of the kitchen and grabs a fresh strawberry from the bowl, setting it down on the floor.

“You,” he says, placing a swirling tongue filled kiss to her neck, “are already sweet, but…”

He presses the berry against her belly button, the cut side against her skin. It’s cold, and wet, juicy, leaves a trail of sticky wetness and goose bumps as he draws it up, swirling on each breast, sliding over the nipples in a way that makes her shudder. He draws that berry right up her neck, to her lips, inviting her to take a bite.

She parts her lips and sticks out her tongue, licking at the berry and his fingers before taking it inside. She’s _trying_ to be seductive, affected and turned on as she is, hoping it comes across as such.

And from the way Robin moans, she thinks it might be working.

“Christ Regina,” he groans, “So fucking sexy.”

He kisses her before she swallows the last bit of the fruit, his tongue sampling and tasting the juicy bits as she swallows.

They kiss heatedly for a few more minutes, until he breaks the kiss to sample at her flesh, his tongue and lips drawing over the trail the berry had left.

“Delicious,” he whispers. “And mine.”

She giggles at that, but she understands the sentiment. They’ve always been each other’s, but it’s all so much more now.

Robin’s tongue laves at her skin, doing a thorough job of cleaning the juice from her. When he gets to his breasts, he becomes more ravenous, kissing and sucking every inch of her flesh.

“Robin,” she gasps, holding the back of head closer. “Oh god!” When he takes in her nipple, he gives her these little bites that go straight to her clit, has her writhing and panting.

“Go down on me,” she gasps, unable to keep from asking.

He looks up at her and winks. “I’m getting there,” he assures.

She rolls her eyes. “Robin....” and then he sucks at her other nipple with gusto, and she feels her breath leave her. “Please.” She rocks her hips into nothing, searching for friction where there is nothing, before she squeezes her thighs together and gets a bit of relief that way.

Robin picks up the pace a bit after that, licking and sucking his way back down to her belly button, and looking up at her devilishly as he continues his path downwards, situating himself between her thighs. And then he really goes for it, no teasing now.

She puts a hand on the back of her head to protect her from the hard floor as her eyes roll in the back of her head as he eats at her.

He’s making up for lost time, fingers go back inside her quickly, and he moans at the feel of her again. She rocks her hips into his mouth, harshly now, he’s teased her and she’s owed some relief.

“God, fuck, mm!” He’s cursing and moaning into her sex, and oh god, she loves the sound of him, loves it, can never get enough of it, loves that he can do this to her happily at any time she wants, that she can ask for it and he will act like _he_ is getting the treat, and she gets this _forever._

That’s the thought that pushes her to the edge, that, and Robin’s fingers thrusting into that spot just right, making her heart leap and her head dizzy with pleasure, a well-timed suck at her clit, and the dam breaks, relief flooding over her as she comes with a strangled cry of his name, her head flying back, hitting hard against the hand she’d thankfully placed between it and the floor.

“Oh _god_ ,” she cries out, eyes clenching as the aftershocks tickle her, make her quake and spasm. Robin isn’t stopping, and it’s one of those times when she really doesn’t need him to do so, so she grips at the back of his head tighter, pushes him against her and whispers, “Don’t stop.”

His moan is the only indication she has that he’s heard her, and then his fingers start moving faster as his mouth settles back on her, giving her those rapid light presses against her (very hard, very sensitive) clit.

“God, I’m going to come again, I’m…. god, so close, Robin, please, more…. Faster, I’m going to, I swear I’m —”

She’s not even back down from her last high, so it doesn’t take long at all for the pleasure to build back up, each press of his tongue, each steady thrust of her fingers working her back up until she careens over the edge with a shout of his name, pulling his hair and wrapping her legs around his neck (god she hopes he can breathe).

This orgasm seems to last forever, she can feel that weightless, whirlwind of bliss, a rush of blood to the head as pleasure zings through every nerve ending. The pleasure leaves her slowly, evaporating bit by bit, but it’s intoxicated her, left her boneless and still shaking with pleasure, and she realizes, after a bit, completely out of breath.

“God,” she pants, looking up to find him smiling at her (he left his place between her thighs at some point, but it barely registered to her), “God, I want to fuck you.”

“Please,” Robin rasps.

She kisses him. His beard is damp, he tastes of her, strawberries, and desperation. Particularly in the way he moans and deepens the kiss, the way he gasps as she urges him to lie down on the floor so she can be on top.

She straddles him, and he’s already moaning, his cock in his hand, waiting to slide home… and there’s something presumptuous about it that makes her want to draw this out. He had teased her, after all.

“Not yet,” Regina drawls, reaching for the chocolate sauce. She hears Robin’s little whine and smiles devilishly.

“Regina,” Robin whisper, “Fuck me, babe.”

“I will. But don’t I get to have a snack first?” He groans, his head smacking back on the hardwood hard, and Regina stifles a laugh. “Fair is fair,” she reminds.

The chocolate has been warmed in its jar, but it’s long since cooled, isn’t as drippy and liquid as she’d like, but she takes the chocolate-covered spoon out anyway, letting it dribble over his chest, his nipples, his abs. The chocolate catches in the ripples of his muscles, sitting and lining his body in a way that’s _very_ appealing.

“Oh, we are doing this again,” she rasps, a finger tracing delicately along one line of chocolate, catching some with her finger before placing it in her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks, watching Robin watch _her_ as she does.

He’s unbelievably riled, has to shut his eyes after a second, and she feels him squirm underneath him.

“Fuck Regina — I— please. The pancakes will get cold,” he warns, a little plea for less foreplay she rolls her eyes at.

“They will have to wait,” she sighs, sliding down his body and lowering her mouth to his torso. “I have other things to eat.”

She starts at his belly button, where some chocolate has pooled, and sucks and licks every bit out. Robin is either chuckling or writhing under her, she hears a stutter laugh and then she knows — he’s a bit ticklish.

She makes her licks a bit firmer as she licks up the chocolate, pressing kisses, little nibbles to his body, and he’s not laughing anymore, he’s moaning and gasping, groaning that her mouth feels _so fucking good,_ his hands weaving through her hair delicately, holding it back for her, almost, but the way they tense and freeze at certain moments, she knows he is fighting the urge to grab at her head and pull her down.

He’s not though, he knows she wants the control and he’s giving it to her, and she loves him for it.

“Mm, fuck, you look so good right now, Regina, you have no idea.”

She looks up at him, her mouth and tongue hovering over his skin. “One day when we have more time,” she begins, ten presses another lick and short suck to his flesh, “I’m going to get you all messy, cover you in chocolate and whipped cream and cherries,” she pauses to lick him more, giving him a little teasing bite right under his pectoral muscles, “and eat and lick every inch of your body, until you’re so riled you _beg_ for it.”

She lowers back down to her task, licking up little droplets of chocolate that have escaped her, dotting tongue feel licks and kisses over his body, learning spots on his body that she didn’t even know were sensitive.

“I’m already there,” Robin groans, “Please Regina, I’ve been waiting for as long as you, I— _oh fuck!_ — didn’t get to come, it… _mm!_ starting to ache.”

She should take pity on him, maybe rock against him, take him in her hand and give him a stroke or two, but she’s almost done, and watching him all riled like this is an incredible turn on for _her._ So se decides she wants to draw this out a bit more.

She slides her tongue over his nipple, lapping throughly, kissing, then giving it a little bite like he loves.

“Christ, fuck, I…” He has been good, trying to stay still, but now his hips are rocking, and moaning loudly. “Too good, too good!”

She’s not sure there can be a _too good,_ so she does it again, another teasing bite, then sucking deeply.

“Fffffuckkk, Regina, I want to be inside you, I— before I—I think I’m going to— _mm!”_

He’s not going to come without being touched. She’s been with him hundreds, if not thousands, of times by now, and he’s never done that. He may think he’s going to, but she knows him better.

So she slides a tongue over to his other nippple and gives it the same treatment. He becomes a bit desperate then, begs her to sit on his cock, to just touch it please, it feels so good, so good it _aches_.

She knows how he feels (there’s a delicious ache between her own thighs, and by the way he’s daring, she doubts she will see any relief) so she licks up those last bits of chocolate a bit more quickly.

And then he’s free of chocolate (maybe, his skin is glistening, she suspects from the wetness of her tongue and the residue of the sweet that covered him, but she’s done enough, they can shower later).

“Ready?” she asks, as she sits back up and throws a leg over him so she can straddle him again.

He laughs and nods. “I won’t last,” he warns, as she nods, she knew that when she played this game, and it doesn’t matter, less time bouncing on her knees anyway.

She takes him in her hand and guides him inside her, watching him as she lowers herself down.

“Mm, fuck you’re soaked,” he moans.

She is, there’s no resistance, he slides into her perfectly, and the desire to ride him hard and fast when he’s like this, all tense and stiff and _trying_ not to come, it makes her want to push him even more, see how long her can try to last.

But he stills her hips with one hand, his other clumsily toying with her clit.

“Close again,” he rasps, “Feel so good, god Regina, wish I…”

She takes his hand off her hips and moves it to her breast, urging him to play with a nipple as she begins to rock.

“Fuck, god, fuck!!”

She knows he had wanted her to go slow, but as she quickens the pace, he’s matching it with his own movements, pounding up into her hard, unable to fight his instincts it seems.

“Fuck, I, god, Regina—“ She really wants to come, seeing him like this is no help for the state of things, he looks like pure sex, biting his lip like this, crying out, holding her so tight, fucking her so hard.

“Fuck, mm! Robin! You feel so good, look so good, mm!”

“You too,” he breathes, “Oh fuck Regina, mm, I…”

His face is beet red, eyes shut tight; he’s trying, but his body is betraying him, he’s fucking up into her at her at a frantic pace, his hands greedily groping at her breasts, and fuck, she wishes she was closer, but she's not, and she _really_ wants to see him come.

“Let go,” she moans, “Come for me, come inside me, Robin, please, mm, I— ”

“Fuck, mm, Regina, _ohh!! I’m—”_

She feels the way he moves, fast and hard, moaning her name as he spills inside her.

She keeps fucking him for as long as she can, trying to reach over that edge (she can’t, it’s too quick, but her body _needs_ it). His orgasm seems to last forever, she’s almost jealous as he whispers _oh god yes_ and _‘feels so good._

But then he tenses underneath her, and she knows he can’t keep this up without paining him.

So she gets off, leaning to grab at the dish rag hanging from the drawer, and uses it as a pillow, shifting to lie down next to him.

He’s still catching his breath, a stifled laugh in between the deep pants for air. “I don’t think I've come that hard… in awhile,” he admits. “You would definitely be pregnant right now if it were possible.”

Regina giggles, shakes her head. She’s well protected in that department, but he did come hard and from the feeling of wetness dripping down her thighs, quite a bit.

The feeling of it somehow turns her on even _more,_ damn it _,_ she’s going to to have to get off again before doing a festive G rated Christmas with her family.

Then Robin — bless him— reaches a hand down between her legs. He’s still coming down from his high, still breathing heavy, and his movements are a bit clumsy. But he’s determined, it seems, to see her to again.

“Christ, I did a number on you,” he groans, his fingers skimming through the wetness between her thighs that is a combination of both of their arousal, now.

“Mm,” she agrees, “Are you, _oh!”_

Her clit is hard and swollen, his fingers find it easily, rubbing and rolling his fingertips over in a familiar pattern she loves.

“God, like that,” she whispers, as he trashed her clit with his thumb, pressing firmly, up and down, then shifting into those firm little circles that get her off.

“Mm, I…”

“Come for me,” he groans, “Again, please darling, one more time, you’re so beautiful, god you make me so hot, you’ve no idea…”

She’s swiveling her hips, searching for relief, but she’s a bit stuck, the hardness of the floor adding this full ache that’s not entirely ideal, distracting her just enough to have her stuck right at the precipice.

“Mm, you feel so good like this, so wet, covered in me, you made me come so hard I thought I was going to black out,” he moans, “so good, did you feel how hard you made me come?”

She hums a response and then thinks of him like that, the way he looked mid-orgasm, how his muscles contracted and relaxed, how his jaw dropped open, breath blowing out as he let out all that tension, god he looked amazing, it looked like it felt so good, it—

“Mm!!”

Regina comes with a grateful moan, rocking her hips against his hand as her relief washes over her in steady, gentle waves, bliss swamping her body, leaving her boneless and satisfied.

Thank god.

For awhile they just lay there as she recovers, enjoying the jello like feeling of her limbs.

After a few traded kisses, her ribs start to ache from being against the hard floor, and she shifts into a new position with a grimace.

“Come on,” Robin sighs, getting up and offering her an arm. “We should get up. If we both go to Christmas Eve dinner with sore backs Emma may actually throw another punch at me.”

Regina chuckles, letting him help her up, rubbing at a crick in her neck as she stands.

“Want me to warm up the pancakes in the oven?” Robin asks.

“Later.” Regina rolls one shoulder than the other, “I’m sticky, and dirty, and sore, and in _desperate_ need of a shower.”

Robin laughs, raising his eyebrows at her.

“What a coincidence, I was just thinking that someone made me very dirty,” he teases, looking down at his sticky torso. “I’m in need of a thorough shower myself.”

“Well,” Regina flirts, reaching to kiss him. “You know how I feel about water conservation.”

Robin chuckles and nods. “Indeed I do.”

“Let’s go,” Regina says, giving their now-messy kitchen a rhyeful look - it’s fine, they can clean it later.

“Regina?” he asks as she heads towards the bathroom.

“Yes?” she answers, looking back at him with curiously.

“Merry Christmas.” He kisses her right on the ring finger. “Having you is, and always will be, my favorite gift. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She kisses him sweetly and walks him back to the bathroom.

They are in the shower until the water turns cool, until they’ve thoroughly debauched and thoroughly cleaned one another again.  

And then they have those pancakes.  They may be a bit dry from being warmed in the oven, there may be less berries then she wanted, the little “hat” being far smaller than she planned... and there may be much more whipped cream than she ever intended, thanks to Robin, but it’s otherwise the sweet, pure breakfast she had imagined. They leave the house smelling of soap, sugar and innocence, warm water and breakfast food masking all the sinful events of earlier that morning.


End file.
